


Deja vu -all over again

by roo1965



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Burns, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roo1965/pseuds/roo1965
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Sheppard, a rock scientist and a few Marines on planet with a familiar feature on it.<br/>Spoilers: S2:19 Inferno<br/>Written for the Sheppard h/c Flashfic Picture challenge 2009</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja vu -all over again

There’s no forest or vegetation in front of him, and John’s standing under a clear dusk sky, not thirty feet from a boiling pit of lava. Part of him worries that he’s just missed Indiana Jones saving the girl from the weird chanting Natives, and John’s the one left standing at the Lava Pit of Doom with M’tabi, the leader of the people in this valley. John has the distinct feeling that he’s been here before. Well, not here obviously, but on a planet with a rumbling volcano. Unlike the Taranians and Chancellor Laikos though, M’tabi is not suspicious of the Atlanteans offer to help them move- he’s just undecided. M’tabi’s dressed in dark tunic and pants, one tanned hand reverentially clasping an intricately beaded necklace round his neck. He’s explaining to John that they’ve lived with the lava pit all their lives and generations before. Sometimes it drains away and sometimes it leaks out- but that was a long, long time ago.

John suddenly misses Rodney’s ranting and arm flailing and mocking of the rock scientists. John’s playing taxi driver to the Geek Squad v2.3, no Ronon or Teyla, just a couple of Marines. It’s his own stupid fault for being bored, restless, and desperate to fly the jumper anywhere. He should have known it would all go FUBAR when Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and repeated “Anywhere?” He sighs, wanting his team back, but they’re itchy and in Isolation and he’s not. On their last outing McKay had slid in wet mud down a gully, face and hands first into a patch of ertu- something that turned out to be not dissimilar to Earth’s poison ivy. Not only did McKay come up in spectacular bumps and a rash almost immediately, but also Teyla and then Ronon, having helped Rodney out of the gully, and all of them standing there clutching Epi-Pens in case McKay developed breathing difficulties. By then John had run ahead to the Gate and alerted Atlantis for a medical team and advice.

John focuses back on M’tabi, Teyla’s so much better at soothing the natives and hearing what’s underneath the words. John tries to explain again what the geological survey team’s latest scans have revealed. The lava pit (or lava lake according to Dr Garrett) is about to go boom big time- as in erupt. M’tabi is happy to have help- he’s just not quite convinced he and his small community need it. He’s sure they’ll get by like before. He’s not worried by the intermittent tremors and small vents that have been opening up.

“Let me consult again with my council. If we agree to your aid, how long will it take to move us out of range?”

“I can get a relay of four shuttles later today and start relocating your people and as many stores as we can to where you want to go. Should be done in a day or two. The experts think it could go anytime, but it’s not going to destroy even half your planet. Lucky for you that Lorne and his survey team stopped by a few weeks ago.

** Three days later **

Shitshitshit...there’s no freaking time, and the world’s crashing and shaking all around them and M’tabi’s screaming about losing the very rocks and trees that make up his home and community and everything that he’s ever known and he’s completely losing it. John understands what that’s like, but he has no breath to agree or tell him to shut up just enough to keep him running towards the jumper. It’s hot and smelly but he’s dragging M’tabi with him and he yells again into his radio, willing the Geek and his Marines to check in again. Because he’s a paranoid control freak and the planet’s exploding and he’s done this before with the Taranians. He sorts through the babbling in his ears and finds out that the jumper is okay for now, but there’s serious lava activity in many areas, and M’tabi’s possibly lost some people and there’s nothing John can do about it. John’s is the last jumper out of here.

The ground shifts again and they crash to the ground in a vicious steamy sulphurous sprawl. M’tabi gets up first and looks around and then down at himself before exclaiming and running off …back towards the Lava Pit of Doom. John coughs and draws in hot air that hurts his throat, and seems to be frying his eyeballs, too. Cursing, he gets up and goes after M’tabi, just in case his people might like him back.

“Colonel Sheppard -we’ve got casualties and the last bunch of refugees. The sooner you get here the better, sir.” 

“Workin’ on it, Hastings. Be back in a few minutes,” he growls.

John doesn’t need this last minute hitch. He’s the only one that can fly them out of here. The Marines, Sgt Hastings and Pt Decker are here to help the last refugees and keep an eye on Dr Garrett, the resident rock Geek and his gadgets. M’tabi, of course, wouldn’t leave until the last possible moment, once Dr Garrett yelled that all his machines had started to display ominous figures and predictions. And then the planet started rumbling and shifting just before lava began to shoot vertically out of the lake.

John catches up with M’tabi several hundred yards up the path; the leader is on his knees searching for something. Up ahead, lava has set trees alight and smoke and ash begins to fall around them.

“My necklace! I’ve lost it!” M’tabi moans.

“Leave it!” John orders, tugging on his arm, pulling the older man up. M’tabi just shakes him off and moves a few steps to look in a new place.

“We don’t have time for this. Look!” John points back towards the lava lake and up at the sky.

“It was handed down through generations; I can’t be leader without it.” M’tabi says angrily.

Suddenly a fissure opens up close to M’tabi and a hot fiery blast of thermal energy shoots upwards. But M’tabi doesn’t move, he’s frozen in place. John lunges for him, grabbing a handful of tunic as the ground wobbles again. His action stops M’tabi from falling in. But now John is close to the edge and the heat sears across his exposed skin and he worries about fabric melting.

Adrenaline floods through him as he drags M’tabi upright and turns him back to the path they were on before and the route to the jumper. John looks at the other man stumbling in front of him, dirt on his knees and hands, clothes covered in ash and soot and his face looking slightly red and wonders if he looks as bad, because things are beginning to hurt.

“Hastings, we’re comin’ in!” John pants into his radio as they round the last bend.

“We’re ready when you are, sir.”

They finally reach the jumper, John pushing M’tabi in, past Hastings who’s waiting at the rear hatch for them.

“Sir, are you okay? Decker- get the med kit!”

“Shut the back door! Status report!” John croaks, deflecting attention away from himself, and slides into the pilot seat at the front of the jumper to begin take off. When he sits down he notices his singed tac vest and his scorched hands as he reaches for the controls, and he jerks back in pain. 

”Colonel?”

John opens dry gritty eyes, wishing he hadn’t, realizing that he's shaking a little and clenching his teeth. Dammit.

"M'okay." he reassures Pt Decker, their medic on this trip, sitting in the co-pilot seat with a large medical kit on his lap.

They have to go now; his hurts can wait until they leave the immediate area. John needs all his skill and expertise to get them through the volcanic cloud and magma spewing into the atmosphere.

"Everybody ready to go?" he rasps, talking makes him cough.

“Yes, sir,” Sgt Hastings confirms.

John reaches out for the controls again- it’s hell on his hands, but what choice does he have? His eyes hurt and his vision’s troubling him.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Pt Decker’s voice is sharp with an undercurrent of concern.

Damn. John had shut his eyes... opening them is painful...

"Colonel Sheppard, can you do this, sir?"

John flinches, straightens up in the chair and he nods, not trusting his voice. Does he really need his eyes open for this? The ATA gene and jumper one will get them all home. He thinks on and M’tabi’s new home pictured sharp in his mind. The jumper hums into life and lifts off the ground and up into the air.

"Sir, there’s no HUD on screen.”

" ‘Sokay Decker, I know where I’m going. Go check on M’tabi for me.” John croaks because he can see the HUD in his mind. It’s as if the jumper knows and it's like a softer version of being in the chair. The jumper’s showing him things- where he is and where he needs to go. He hopes that it’s as easy as it looks. He sighs in relief as he navigates them round the turbulence to the new continent M’tabi’s relocated to.

John listens to the conversation behind him as Decker asks if he can help M’tabi and cracks open the med kit. Decker’s new off the Daedalus rotation and this is his first off world situation- John thinks he’s doing okay so far.

“Sir, I must insist that your hands are washed with saline and bandaged. They could become infected if we leave it too long. We can take a minute, sir?”

Decker is persistent, John will give him that. He nods agreement as he nudges the autopilot to the new co-ordinates. He can’t help jerking as the first splash of cold water hits his held out hands, as he sits swivelled round in the pilot seat. He grits his teeth as the water splashes cold and then warm over his hands to pool on the floor. John knows they have to cool the skin to stop the burn developing into something more than it already is. He’s seen the results of IED’s in Afghanistan and they’ve had the odd kablooey moment in McKay’s labs, so, yeah, he knows how bad it can get. Decker searches in the medical kit for sterile dressings which he soaks with the last of the saline. Moments later he’s soggily bandaged and his watch and wristband are gently removed before his wrist swells any more, and it hurts.

**

Ten minutes later they’re where M’tabi’s people have relocated—a crowd waits in the clearing. No doubt they were getting worried seeing the fire and ash in the sky.

John lands the jumper and lowers the ramp and everyone gets out. He makes himself get up and join them. M’tabi is helped off by Sgt Hastings, looming tall and very black in his Atlantean uniform compared to the slighter, ash covered figure of M’tabi. Lani, his wife, rushes forward and calls other women to fetch bandages and salves for her husband. While they apply salve and wrap up his hands and smear it across his reddened face, M’tabi tells them he’s lost the necklace. But it doesn’t seem to upset them as much as he feared. John could have told him that some people are just natural leaders and don’t need the props to tell everyone that. M’tabi is their leader whether he’s wearing the ceremonial necklace or not.

“Good luck. We’ll come and check on you and see how you’re doing and I know Dr Garrett will want to keep an eye on your volcano for you.” John says, coughing every few words. Pt Decker edges towards him with a bottle of water and John takes a slow careful swallow.

“In thanks, we can offer you aid here. We are used to dealing with the ash and heat,” M’tabi offers.

“Thank you, but our people will worry if we don’t get back soon. We have medicines of our own as good as yours. We must go now.” John tries to be diplomatic.

“Once again thank you. We would have lost many more people if not for your help. We shall start again.” M’tabi bows his head and John does the same before motioning to his Marines and the geologist to return to the jumper.

John slides back into his seat and thinks on and home and they’re lifting off eagerly into the sky. He grins, but the movement across his singed cheekbones is painful. His hands throb warm under the bandages and his eyes hurt; tears of pain scald down his sore cheeks. He lets loose a surprise aagh and wrenches his mind back to getting them back in one piece. Just a few more minutes and they can all be home and in Beckett's clutches. For once he'd like to get to the infirmary. He reckons he could still fly with a bum hand but his eyes... not flying….his heart lurches at that last thought and the jumper dips for a second.

“Sir?” "Colonel?" Damn, he’s worrying the Marines and Dr Garrett.

"Sorry," John rasps and gets back on steering the little jumper out of the planet’s atmosphere and to the space gate. He could put it on auto but what if the gate had moved or the Wraith popped in? - he'd need to guide jumper one. Or maybe he was just a bad ass control freak.

He grunts as he tries to hold it all in and steer the jumper

“Dial the gate, “John orders, Decker presses the glyphs, and enters his IDC without being asked.

"Safe to go through,” Decker confirms and radios through for a medical team to be waiting for them in the gate room.

John’s frowning in concentration, threading the jumper through the spacegate. His mind is on an endless loop of homehomehome as they enter the wormhole. The automatic stop and entry at Atlantis kicks in and John sets the jumper gently down on the landing pad. The hum of Atlantis wraps round his brain and body, caressing across skittering nerves ….and he lowers the jumper ramp with a flick of a switch. There are voices and movement behind him and he's still trying to keep it together when a touch to his shoulder jerks him.

"Easy, Colonel," says a familiar accented voice. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Can you get up?"

And John realizes that he's still in his seat, hands on the controls, hands which are trembling; his back and neck aches with tense strain.

"Colonel?" Beckett repeats, this time more worried.

"Doc," he answers but it’s barely a whisper.

"Everything's going to be alright. Just relax for me. We’ll get you sorted in just a wee jiffy."

John knows Beckett’s talking calmly, trying not to spook him, when he’s feeling exhausted, adrenaline locked and shocky. “Just gonna take this off,” and John feels his P90 being unclipped from his vest, but not before his bandaged fingers brush painfully over it to check the safety.

Slowly John’s fingers relax their hold on the controls and he leans back in his seat gasping fast breaths through the pain in his burned hands and his heart still trip hammering and he needs to hold on just a bit longer. He can hear Beckett talking to one of the nurses with him.

"Colonel, just going to help you; I’m just giving you some oxygen." John feels his head being lifted slightly as the strap goes round his head and there's solid plastic on his singed face and he sucks the cool air in. It makes him cough and he jerks forward in reflex. A solid hand on his shoulder arrests further movement and he leans into it for a second, his head drooping with effort. Gradually his pulse slows.

"Colonel! Stay with me, stay awake."

He groans and lifts his head up a fraction

"Good.” There’s a pinch in one arm for an IV. Right, he knows this- burns mean loss of fluids which need to be replaced.

"What happened to your eyes, Colonel?"

"Flash burn, ashes and stuff. Hurts don’t touch ‘em."

"It’s alright, I won't; I need better light than in here anyway.” Beckett turns aside to use the radio to ask Dr Hufton to come to the infirmary ASAP and John feels eye pads going on and bandages being wrapped round his head.

John thinks he’s got a handle on things for now, and as if Beckett can read minds he asks John, "Think you can get up? - slowly now." John nods and turns in the seat. He uses his elbows to push up and is immediately unsure where up is and Beckett's holding him up on one side, a nurse on the other and together they totter out of the jumper down the ramp to the waiting gurney. Beckett guides him onto it and tucks the oxygen bottle at his side and the IV bag rests on his shoulder as he rides half sitting to the infirmary.

The infirmary is a hive of activity only mildly chaotic around him as people come and go, fetching things.

John lies there and lets it happen- he’s told off for trying to undo his tac vest. “I’m fine, Doc.”

“Actually, I’m concerned with you just now, and no talking," Beckett counters and leaves him for a few minutes whilst the nurse continues draping new cold dressings over his hands and face. John hears Beckett’s shoes squeak their return.

"Now then, Colonel. Were you knocked out by any debris, even for a moment?"

John shakes his head.

“So- the only burn injuries are to your hands, face, and your eyes?"

John nods again in agreement since he’s not allowed to talk and he relaxes into the pillow as his clothes are removed. If he wasn't already burned he would have blushed- no-one likes that happening while they’re awake. John knows the nurses are professionals and used to this and they ensure he keeps his dignity. It's not like years of barracks and shower rooms haven't made him comfortable in his skin- he is, he just feels helpless and he hurts and he's worried about his eyes. And he hates all this fuss.

Two sets of heavier footsteps approach. Beckett and someone else.

“I think it’s time to let Dr Hufton take a look at your eyes- turns out he did an ophthalmic rotation at Johns Hopkins. He has much more experience than I can offer and give you the best treatment you need."

The beeps on his left speed up as John wraps his brain around the words ‘treatment’.

"Colonel, you’re just going to have to be patient; I don’t think it's going to be permanent, but it's uncomfortable for you I get that.”

“Colonel Sheppard, I’m sorry we have to meet like this.” Hufton says, surprising John with an Australian accent.

“Don’t lift your head at all, stay where you are. I’m going to take the bandages and covers off. Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. I need to look at them with an ophthalmoscope and light. Then we’re going to rinse them. Let us do everything, Colonel; it’s very important. And tell me how much it does or doesn’t hurt.” There was the sound of Beckett snorting behind him “Colonel Sheppard, you want to be A1 for the jumpers right? Lying or being stoic won’t help. Do you understand me?”

“Five by five, Doc,” John whispers. He can imagine McKay’s eyes rolling at the military slang.

Fingers fumble round his head and he feels the bandages loosening and coming off. He sighs with some relief as he realizes he can see the Infirmary light through his eyelids. The fingers stop.

“Colonel?”

John must have made a noise “S’okay, shadows,” he rasps and everyone relaxes.

John lies still and feels the open air round his forehead and eyes, cooling the skin burn. He senses the doctor’s breath whispering across his sensitive skin as he leans closer to examine whatever his closed eyes and face look like.

“Just going to clean you up a bit here. Keep your eyes shut, I’m going to tilt your head one way and then the other for the wash.” Then the surrounding area is gently swabbed dry.

“Okay, let’s see what’s going on,” Hufton warns John.

Fingers pry one dry eyelid open, dim light and cool air wash across the surface in exquisite agony. The blurry shape of the doctor’s pale face changes into the fuzzy spout of the squirty water bottle and then liquid runs over his eyeball. Painful and deliciously soothing at the same time. After what seems like an eternity, his other eye gets the same treatment. Then the doctor checks his eyelids. This is followed by tracking the doc’s finger as he moves it back and forth in front of him. Then Dr Hufton peers for a good minute into his retinas or the back of his skull, John isn’t sure which.

“Your corneas aren’t damaged too badly- there’s inflammation and the possibility of infection. But I think it’s going to be just hunky dory- it’s painful and blurry right now- but a few more washes, antibiotic ointment and rest with the eye patches and you should be good as new in a day or two, Colonel, ” Dr Hufton pronounces.

John’s wrapped back up, surprised by how much the dog and pony show has wiped him out. He shivers suddenly and someone drapes a warm blanket over him. He drinks more water and lets the world carry on around him.

**

Time slows and fades out for a while and when he comes back he feels his hands sitting in a bowl of cool liquid and a cool cloth round his neck to reduce possible swelling there. All is calm, despite the sticky pads on his torso from the monitors which catch a few chest hairs.

He stirs, twitching the fingers in the bowl and liquid spatters.

"Back with us lad?" Beckett’s still there.

"'w'hs goin' on?" John asks, beginning to worry about fading out.

“I’m waiting for the swelling to go down some more. So just relax a wee while longer," Beckett tries to reassure him.

Relax.

Right.

Let’s see (oh, har har John…) #1 Planet volcano- again. #2 the possibility of infection in his eyes and hands. Nice and relaxing. He’ll get right on that.

John tries to ask Beckett something, but is shushed …”And no talking either with that throat. I want you to keep hydrated so a nurse'll be by regularly with water for you to sip."

John sighs in frustration, the last of his adrenaline long gone. Shredded, twitchy nerves are all that is left. His eyes still feel gritty underneath the cool pads as they move under his eyelids.

"And stop frowning, I’m giving you something to take the edge off so you get some rest and we'll be by later." The air shifts; there is the sound of rustling, a pause and the soft plastic thud as something goes into a sharps bin and then warmth spreads up his arm and all over his body. He melts into the sheets and Atlantis slides away from him.

**

John wakes up in pain; his face burns and feels as big as a football. Something is still over his eyes or he’s gone blind, he can’t see; his hands feel like lumps….his throat really hurts. He makes some inarticulate noise and he jerks upright to suddenly cough into a plastic mask.

Footsteps come squeaking in a hurry across the floor, beeping off to his left and antiseptic smells and sounds seep into his consciousness….Infirmary…

“Colonel? You’re in the infirmary, Atlantis, everyone’s okay,” the nurse soothes as she cleans the mask out and asks him to cough into a cloth in front of his face.

He grunts in response; he feels like crap and shifts listlessly on the bed. “Wh’s wrong?” he asks, worried.

“It’s perfectly normal with smoke inhalation, Colonel. Just black sputum that you need to get rid of. Ice chips?” she offers.

John nods and relishes the cold lumps that soothe his mouth. “That seems to be okay, want some water?” and a straw bumps his lips “Not too much.”

“M’I okay?” he croaks, still wary.

“Drs Beckett and Hufton say you will be, sir”

Later he asks one of the nurses to get his radio for him and he mumbles to Ronon, Teyla and Rodney still stuck in quarantine. They’re all grumpy from the enforced captivity and John’s almost sorry he’s not in there sharing it with them. It doesn't stop his snark fest with McKay over getting whacked by plantlife compared to being splashed and breathed on by a volcano- Ronon and Teyla stay out of that one.

After that Sheppard is mortified to find he’s not allowed out of bed for the little pilot’s room, nor is he allowed to actually handle the urinal, what with his burnt hands being wrapped and all. The curtains go round his corner nook and he’s sure that if the rest of his team were to see the red glow from his bed he’d blame it on his burns rather than the embarrassment factor. At least he doesn’t get to see who’s doing what; he can only hope that by the time the pirate patches come off he can ‘handle’ things on his own.

**

He wakes up and it’s dark of course, no idea of what time it is and he feels…off. Slick with sweat and muddled dreams of a woman with long dark hair, brushing his cheek and soothing his forehead. Mom? he thinks sadly. His headache thuds with his heartbeat. He wonders what time it is again and wonders what happened to his watch. Then another thought sears across his brain- his wristband, where is it? Muzzily he thinks he left it in his room and has to go and get it rightnowthisminute.

He throws back the sheet and scoots to the edge of the bed and the world lurches to one side. It’s not until he’s standing, wobbling at the bedside, that he realizes he’s in scrubs, thank god for that. He feels hot and thinks walking to his room will cool him down. Room he thinks as he sets off blindly, bare feet noiseless in the dim night time infirmary.

He gets to a wall and pats it, feeling Atlantis nudge him in the right direction. When Beckett and a nurse find him he’s slumped in a corner trying to remember what he was doing and why -only knowing that something’s missing that he desperately needs. Gently, they put him in a wheelchair and stuff him back into bed, beeping thermometers and IV bags and all. Bad Colonel, out of bed, fall down and go boom…woof. He laughs and then the clowns come for him…Scary faces painted white with fangs come at him from all sides.

The sticky heat stays and stays and he knows he’s shouting things unlocked from the boxes in his head and he hates it, he pleads and shouts. Then the chills come and he bunkers down shutting the world out.

At long last he dreams of flying into the clear blue skies and into dark sky filled with stars too many to count. There are cool hands soothing his burnt face and hands, and familiar voices telling him to rest and get better. A cool hand across his right wrist lets him know that what’s missing is back and he can stand down now. He is with his team and Atlantis is humming along every nerve soothing and bubbling clear at him .Everything will be alright.

\----

END


End file.
